


Political and Interpersonal

by Timonger



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, During Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s07e16 Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges, Feelings, Introspection, It coulda happened, M/M, Mentioned Luther Sloan, Mentioned Richard Bashir, Off-Screen Scene, Post-Episode s07e16 Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timonger/pseuds/Timonger
Summary: After his second encounter with Sloane, Julian has trouble falling back to sleep. Perhaps talking the past few days over with his oldest friend will help clear his head?
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	Political and Interpersonal

Julian tossed and turned, failing to find sleep again after Sloan’s departure. Sloan’s parting speech turning over and over in his mind as he wrestled with what had happened over the past few days. 

He checked the time, debating whether to contact him, it was too late, surely. He could wait until the next time they had lunch to discuss what was whirling in his mind. All those ears though, anyone could overhear what he needed to say. Julian groaned as he rolled over to stare at the stark ceiling. He had made such a mess of things on Romulus! Of course section 31 must know about his friendship with the station tailor, but he didn’t have to make their private conversations easy to access! Julian rolled out of bed trying to dispel the bitter frustration he had wrestled with since Sloan had made him a pawn in his schemes. He hadn’t realized what he’d decided until after he heard his voice. 

“Garak here.” came through the intra-station comm unit rather more quickly than Julian expected.

“Garak, I apologize for contacting you so late, but I wondered if you and I could speak… in private.”

There was a pause on the other line, and Julian was just about to rescind his request when Garak replied.

“It’s a bit late, don’t you think, doctor?”

“Yes, yes of course, I apologize for disturbing you.”

“But certainly not too late for company from an old friend.”

20 minutes later, Julian was in Garak’s quarters sitting on his sofa. He could count on one hand the number of times he had been in Garak’s quarters, starting when Julian helped Garak break his addiction to the wire. Despite that first negative experience here, there was something about the quarters that felt comforting. Since Julian deactivated the wire, Garak had done a lot to make the rooms more comfortable, to make them a place he could live in, not just tolerate. The temperature was what Garak claimed to be “a mild spring day” but to Julian it felt like the peak of summer. Garak’s taste was evident from the decorations: landscapes of the Cardassian countryside, bookshelves of PADDs as well as physical books, plants on almost every flat surface, and lush tapestries embroidered in abstract swaths of color and line. He had a wide table against the wall that once was covered in neat stacks of fabric and commissions, but now was home to stacks of PADDs full of his decryption efforts against the Dominion. Near the lone window-port sat a small abstract sculpture, a geometric teardrop covered in Kardasi script, nestled in a burbling fountain. The flickering light of a small oil lamp before it played across the carvings and glinted off the bubbling water, casting erratic soft flashes in the dim room. Julian suspected the flame and the fountain were Garak’s memorial to Enabran Tain, his father, but he’d never asked. He hadn’t wanted to bring up those painful memories again. Everything in the room reflected its occupant, neat, mysterious, and dare he say “simple”? Now he found himself here once again, cradling a cup of Tarkalian tea, finishing his recounting of the past few days. 

“... and then he left. The arrogant manipulative bastard.” Julian looked up to his companion sitting next to him. 

Garak fixed him with his whole attention, eyes soft and indulgent, that familiar smile radiating kindness. Julian didn’t think he had woken him, Cardassians didn’t need nearly as much sleep as Humans, but the clothes Garak wore at home were much more casual than what he wore on the Promenade. His trousers were slim and black, not much different than what he usually wore, but his dusty green top was loose and breezy, the short sleeves revealed the continuation of his neck ridges down to taper off at the top of his biceps. The collar was trimmed with a wide band of intricate embroidery that drew Julian’s eyes back up to his friend’s face. A flush of embarrassment bloomed across Julian’s cheeks as he realized he had been staring. 

“I, I’m sorry, Garak, I shouldn’t’ve called you so late. I didn’t mean to bother you with something like this.” he set his tea down.

“My dear Doctor, I'm touched you did.” 

Relief bloomed in his chest, he hadn’t realized how anxious he was. The past few days had wound him up so tight. That final smug speech from Sloan. Garak’s words helped to release some of the tension that coiled inside him. 

“You probably think I’m being naive. That Sloan is right. A fool in need of protection.” he let out a long slow sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why had he come here? Garak was sure to praise this remarkable example of humanity. Who, despite their flawed Federation values, had learned what every good Cardassian knew: to put guaranteed state security over uncertain valuable alliances.

A cool hand settled on his shoulder, startling Julian. He hadn’t noticed Garak move to sit next to him on the small sofa. The older Cardassian regarded him as Julian turned to look at his friend. The comforting hand remained on his shoulder between them, radiating a refreshing coolness in the feverishly warm room.

“You may be naive, and you were certainly a fool once, but you need no one’s protection, Doctor.” 

Julian let out a soft puff of laughter at that. He reached up to pat the hand resting on his shoulder in thanks, but only brushed cool fingertips as Garak quickly took his hand away. Julian followed his movements as Garak rose to refill his small tumbler with kanar from a decorative decanter that had been close enough to reach on the small table in front of them. Instead of returning to his seat next to Julian, Garak took his previous place on the bare wooden stool positioned next to the sofa. As easy and genial Garak was in public, Julian found him to be almost skittish when they were alone together. Friendly touches so welcomed across a table in the Replimat caused Garak to shy away in private. A shiver of annoyance flashed, tightening Julian’s shoulders.

“This… Sloan was it? He certainly sounds like a patriot of the Federation, a true asset to Humanity. Why, with him leading Starfleet’s own secret intelligence agency, the Romulans will certainly have a worthy rival for control of the Alpha Quadrant.” 

A bitter grimace split Julian’s face as he stared at his smiling companion.

“I should have known, Garak, of course you would agree with everything Sloan-”

“But,” interrupted Garak, “with ‘men like you’ dear doctor, the alpha quadrant may just stand a chance against the Dominion.”

Julian stared in shock at Garak. His smile shuttered and he glanced down to stare into his kanar as he swirled his drink. The tiny flame nearby revealed the deep amethyst color of the thick liquid as it clung to the sides of the glass. The older man stared into the middle distance, unknown specters haunting his vision. 

“I’ve known people like Sloan. I may have been him a few times.” 

Julian didn’t think he'd ever seen Garak search for what to say before. He closed his eyes and when he looked up, Julian wasn’t sure if he’d seen Garak look so weary before. A soft defeated look played across his face. The ghost of a smile to ease the air of seriousness that had fallen between them.

“People like him lack a scope of vision that I’ve come to appreciate over the past few years.” 

“I’m shocked, Garak.” but behind this playful response, Julian found that it was true. In all their lunch conversations over the years, Garak never wavered from taking the stance of a patriotic Cardassian, extolling the virtue of loyalty to the state and sacrifice of self for the group.

“I do try to keep our lunch discussions light, my dear.” At the absence of his title Julian felt his cheeks flush again. Garak’s eyes radiated a sad mirth that belied his widening smile. He fixed Julian with a pointed look before continuing.

“But I don't think you came here to discuss the validity of Sloan’s opinions on Federation Security.” 

Julian looked at his friend, who seemed so far away when just moments ago he had been so close. This man who had been such a large part of his life for almost seven years, who knew him better than anyone, even Miles. 

“No, that’s not why I asked to speak to you.” Julian reached past his empty glass of tea to reach for the other tumbler. He could swear he saw a slight gray blush around Garak’s aural ridges as he easily reached for the nearly empty decanter of kanar to fill Julian’s glass. Julian drained it quickly in one gulp, the taste of strong alcohol, sweet herbs, and salt, coating his tongue. He waited for Garak to refill his glass before continuing.

“The whole Conference, Admiral Ross, Senator Cretak, Koval,” a flash of anger made him grimace, “and Sloan. What he did… what he tricked me into doing. I’ve been replaying again and again in my mind.” Garak leaned closer as Julian talked, as if pulled towards the bitterness in the younger man’s voice. 

“I needed to talk to someone who… someone who has experience with subterfuge.” He anticipated a jibe from Garak, a teasing protestation of innocence, when none came he looked up. Garak was calm, with almost a sympathetic glint to his eye. “I needed to talk to my friend. I needed to talk to you.” Julian reached out his hand, seeking connection and companionship. Garak’s normally veiled face had the expression of a man who had been granted a boon he’d never dared to hope for. He hesitated, but after a beat Garak slid his cool hand into Julian’s. They sat like that for a moment, basking in the simple comforting contact. 

“Are you afraid that Sloan is right?” Garak asked softly next to him. “That you are some blind and cosseted man that benefits from the ruthless and decisive action of agents in the shadows?”

Julian sighed and released Garak’s hand to lean into the sofa, resting his head back. Garak’s ceiling was draped with butter yellow, soft pink, and creamy orange fabric that softened the stark Cardassian architecture. Julian thought it was better, more correct somehow, than the austere bare bulkheads elsewhere in the station. The soft drape of the fabric and the sharp angles of the exposed supports seemed to work in tandem, strengthening the assets of each while softening the weaknesses. 

“Yes.” he answered, mesmerized by the interplay of cloth and metal above him. “And no.”

Julian felt more than saw Garak’s eyes on him. He could hear the other man move around in the room.

“I’ve had to hide for most of my life. I hid before I even knew I was hiding.” Julian glanced over to Garak, who had moved to the sideboard to refill the decanter with kanar, but his eyes were still fixed on Julian. “You know, my mother told me I was genetically enhanced because I was doing too well in school. Top marks, varsity tennis, chess club… there were a lot of eyes on me. It was the longest we had stayed in one place since I could remember. I guess she was worried someone would become suspicious. Ruin the prospects of her perfect son, Jules. I remember the fear in her eyes when she told me, I couldn't believe her. When my father confirmed it, I'll never forget the shame and anger he tried to hide. Like it was my fault somehow.” 

Julian reached up to rub his face, urging that old hurt and anger to go back to that deep dark corner in his mind. But it was strong tonight, Sloan had stirred up those old rotten feelings with his little speech. His disbelief when they had told him. The blinding anger when they tried to explain it was for his own good, he was  _ better _ , he should be grateful _. _ The sick frustration when he researched all of the avenues he knew they hadn’t taken. Julian knew Richard Bashir hadn’t had the patience for his poor slow Jules, his father’s love of a quick fix, a sure thing. That deep dark fear that they might have thrown him away to be someone else’s problem if augmentation hadn’t been an option. That the only way his parents could love him was to fundamentally change who he was. Julian stood up suddenly to pace in the middle of the room, trying to outrun the feelings of anger and frustration that threatened to overwhelm him.

“And Sloan as good as called me a blissful child who needs protection from monsters under the bed!”

“He believes his methods will lead to a stronger Federation, a federation that could control the Alpha Quadrant with singular strength and vision.” Garak’s tone grated on Julian’s ears, sounding too much like Sloan.

“He destroyed the life of a woman, an ally and a patriot to her people, for the control of a bribed double agent? He says the federation needs people like me, ‘men of principle, men of conscience,’ but he’s willing to destroy people just like me in favor of someone he can control, someone who’s acting against their own people for their own selfish benefit. Call me naive but standing all alone with weak willed power hungry double-crossers beside us doesn’t sound like a strong position for the Alpha Quadrant or the Federation!”

“What does it sound like?” asked Garak as he sat on the sofa with a fresh glass of kanar. His tone was light and cool, his expression openly accessing Julian as he stilled his pacing.

Rolling the question in his mind, Julian deflated and threw himself back down on the sofa next to Garak.

“It sounds like isolation, and self importance,” he thought a bit then looked at Garak’s dear familiar face, “and it sounds like fear.”

Garak looked away sharply and took another sip from his glass before setting it on the table. Staring off into the distance he settled forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“Before we met, Doctor, I would have agreed with Sloan, every word. Replace ‘Federation’ with ‘Cardassia’ and he could have been Tain himself.” a small chuckle and he looked down at his feet. “Back then I thought you would be amusing, a beautiful distraction from this hellish place I found myself in.” Garak glanced back at Julian with a pained look on his face. Julian sensed a change in the man, the untried muscles of opening up to another, a cautious unfurling of closely held memories. 

“I gave you books I had read during my training as a young man, selecting the most pious material that even I thought was over zealous in its fealty to the State. But then we discussed them, and you were actually insightful. You made connections that my teachers, my parents, even I never thought of. You made me think. You gave me new perspective, Doctor.” 

Julian stared at Garak, frozen in place, cautious not to make a sound and give the Cardassian a reason to stop, make excuses or hide behind lies and half truths. 

“You said how angry you were with Sloan, when you put it all together. He destroyed senator Cretak because he couldn’t be assured of her future actions, her future allegiances. His fear has him relying on people whose value only lies in who they’re willing to betray. He chose a certain pawn over an uncertain ally, a servant over a partnership. And you, Dearest Julian, you can’t even comprehend such a choice.” Garak moved to sit sideways, facing Julian, with the sweetest of any smile he has seen on this man’s face and the ghost of fear behind his eyes. 

And with a crystal clarity Julian didn’t think was possible, it all came into focus. Sloan’s choice in compatriots was an insult to everything Julian held dear, but not in the way he originally thought. It was an insult to everything he had built with this man. A direct challenge to something he held so dear. Sloan’s choice as the Federation’s choice challenged a future Julian hadn’t even known he wanted until this moment. It rejected a future with Garak as equals with different ideals, different beliefs, but harmonious, supporting and strengthening each other. Julian couldn’t reject it, he didn't want to, and Garak had seen why. 

An unexpected thrill shot through Julian’s spine sharpening his awareness, his position on the sofa, the small point where their knees touched, the light from the candle causing every scale on Garak’s ridges to sparkle like silver, the faint scent of the man next to him, warm soil and wool, the incline of Garak’s head as he examined the interplay of emotions surely playing across Julian’s face. 

“It is interesting, don’t you think, how broad political intrigues can so closely imitate interpersonal ones? I must say, my dear Doctor, I’m glad all our lunches have had an impact on you as well.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my story! I've been re-watching DS9 for Garashir content since I set sail on their ship a few weeks ago and after I watched this episode it struck me how much Julian would want to talk to Garak about everything that that happened. I hope you liked it and would love to know what you think in the comments.


End file.
